she had magic in her eyes even the stars envied
Amalia is an early riser, a necessary trait in one who bakes, a type of work which is best begun early, before the rest of the world starts to stir. For the Shield of Safrin the predawn is precious, a rare bout of quiet in a tumultuous world, when the air is crisp with possibility, the promise of a new day hanging below the stars.
There was a time not so long ago when she was afraid of the dark. Shadows seemed shifty, dangerous things, starlight too fickle to truly protect. Amalia would hide from the threat of the night, too young and naive to understand that the true threats were those who thrived in daylight, that evil was a thing which did not deign to hide.
That shadows are simply caricatures, a distraction from the thing that blocks out light.
Which is not to say she is not still cautious. Amalia is already in the garden when a crack fills the air, making her freeze, tension in her shoulders, herbs in her hands. Is it Edy? Zariah? Something somehow worse? Jyoti trills a soothing call as the baker begins to panic, anxiety marking an unsteady heartbeat, sweat on her skin despite the morning chill. Calm down. Think. It will be okay.
The truth is, Amalia has pieces in place for such an event. A great horned owl has taken to roosting in the attic of the bakery, and the girl allows it on the basis of an understanding, that it will act as alarm for her, an extra set of eyes. Now she reaches out mentally to the bird, mutely compelling it to report. Far away she can feel its indignation as it rouses from rest, peering out into the front lawn and sending back a garbled series of images: black feather male squawking on the ground.
Adam?
Significantly relieved, Amalia rounds the corner of the bakery, Jyoti swimming eagerly ahead to greet their friend. She is dressed in little more than a blue nightgown, a black shawl slung across her shoulders, her golden hair still wild from sleep, wry concern on her angular face. "It's a little late for another sleepover, A-"
Amalia stops dead in her tracks as the babbling figure comes into view, a mixture of shock and relief playing across her face as she takes in the man she has not seen for months. "Jory?" Stepping a little closer, the baker nudges his foot while Jyoti swims brazenly to peer into his face. "Where in Rae's name have you been?" She does not say the thing she's thinking, but the relief in her voice spells it out. I thought you were dead.
There was a time not so long ago when she was afraid of the dark. Shadows seemed shifty, dangerous things, starlight too fickle to truly protect. Amalia would hide from the threat of the night, too young and naive to understand that the true threats were those who thrived in daylight, that evil was a thing which did not deign to hide.
That shadows are simply caricatures, a distraction from the thing that blocks out light.
Which is not to say she is not still cautious. Amalia is already in the garden when a crack fills the air, making her freeze, tension in her shoulders, herbs in her hands. Is it Edy? Zariah? Something somehow worse? Jyoti trills a soothing call as the baker begins to panic, anxiety marking an unsteady heartbeat, sweat on her skin despite the morning chill. Calm down. Think. It will be okay.
The truth is, Amalia has pieces in place for such an event. A great horned owl has taken to roosting in the attic of the bakery, and the girl allows it on the basis of an understanding, that it will act as alarm for her, an extra set of eyes. Now she reaches out mentally to the bird, mutely compelling it to report. Far away she can feel its indignation as it rouses from rest, peering out into the front lawn and sending back a garbled series of images: black feather male squawking on the ground.
Adam?
Significantly relieved, Amalia rounds the corner of the bakery, Jyoti swimming eagerly ahead to greet their friend. She is dressed in little more than a blue nightgown, a black shawl slung across her shoulders, her golden hair still wild from sleep, wry concern on her angular face. "It's a little late for another sleepover, A-"
Amalia stops dead in her tracks as the babbling figure comes into view, a mixture of shock and relief playing across her face as she takes in the man she has not seen for months. "Jory?" Stepping a little closer, the baker nudges his foot while Jyoti swims brazenly to peer into his face. "Where in Rae's name have you been?" She does not say the thing she's thinking, but the relief in her voice spells it out. I thought you were dead.
